Do Not Tell Mother About This Either
by Vol lady
Summary: Jarrod takes Nick to New Orleans for a vacation – in Jack Darby's home town, will they become involved in things they can't tell Mother about? Well, sure.
1. Chapter 1

Do Not Tell Mother About This Either

Chapter 1

Nick made one of his "you've got to be kidding" faces and laughed one of his "you're out to get me but I'm onto you" laughs at the same time. "No, no, no," he said. "You're just dangling this little trip in front of my eyes because you don't want to have to go into Darbyville by yourself."

Jarrod shrugged. "Darbyville" was Nick's favorite nickname for New Orleans, since Jarrod's look-alike cousin Jack Darby visited and created havoc for Jarrod and the rest of the family. Now Jarrod needed to go to New Orleans, Darby's hometown, on business, and he suggested Nick come along and they add on a little vacation together. Jarrod had taken Heath to New York City a while back as a treat and Nick had been jealous at the time. Jarrod honestly meant this New Orleans trip to be the gift of a good time for his younger brother, but Nick smelled a rat. He was sure Jarrod wanted to take him as protection for whatever chaos Darby or his mere existence was going to create for Jarrod.

But Jarrod said, "Nick, I've been to New Orleans a few times before and never run into any kind of trouble connected with Jack Darby. I never even knew the man existed, and nobody ever treated me as if they thought I was him. It's a big city. Our paths never crossed and probably won't cross now. But, if you don't want a free trip to a fun place – "

"Free?" Nick asked.

"I'm paying for it," Jarrod said. "It's all on my dime, since I have to go there for business, after all."

"What business?" Victoria asked as she and Audra knitted and watched the men play pool after supper.

"One of my clients in San Francisco wants me to go there and negotiate a deal for sugar," Jarrod said. "He'd do it himself, but he's developed some health trouble and can't travel."

"How long will you be gone?" Heath asked after taking a shot at the eight ball and not sinking it. "I gotta know how long I have to run things while Nick's gone."

"I'm not going anywhere," Nick said.

Heath grinned his lop-sided grin. "Sure you are. I'll tell you why while we're out with the herd tomorrow."

Audra and Victoria looked at each other. Audra said, "Did either Heath or Jarrod tell you what went on in New York when they went there?"

"Not a word," Victoria said. "And I decided it was best not to ask."

Nick suddenly looked a little more interested. "How long will we be gone?" he echoed Heath's question.

"About five or six days travel each way," Jarrod said. "I'll need at least one negotiation day and then a day to draw up the paperwork. Then we can enjoy ourselves. About three weeks, give or take, I'd say."

Nick felt a sour rush go through him again. "Unless we run into Darby."

"We won't run into Darby," Jarrod said. "Tell you what. You talk to Heath tomorrow, then you and I will talk tomorrow night and discuss some of the ways you might spend your vacation. You'll like it, Nick. And you never go on vacation, when you darned well ought to."

Nick looked toward Heath, who said, "Don't worry about me. I've had my fun with Big Brother. Something tells me you never have done anything like this."

"I haven't," Nick admitted.

"You're always telling me I work too hard, when you're the one who won't take time off," Jarrod said.

"All right," Victoria said, "but whether Nick goes with you or not, Jarrod, I don't want to deal with too many details when you get back."

Jarrod smiled. "Mother, I wouldn't dream of telling you anything you didn't want to hear."

Nick was starting to smile now, that candid and very satisfied smile that snuck out of him when he wasn't thinking about who was looking. Jarrod and Heath looked at each other with equally sneaky smiles, and Jarrod winked. Heath laughed.

XXXXXXXX

Out with the herd the next day – and in fairly quiet privacy – Heath told Nick about his and Jarrod's trip to New York, how they agreed they would not tell Mother anything about what they were doing, how they escaped a couple of dangerous situations and met some fine, fine women and most of all, how much Heath loved it. "It gave us time to get to know each other," Heath said. "Gave me a chance to help Jarrod with that bad time he was having after Beth – because he was still having bad times, and don't be fooled, he still is."

"I know he is," Nick said. "Jarrod's problem has always been how close to the vest he keeps his feelings, good and bad. Sometimes I think if he'd just talk to us, he'd feel better, but it's not his way. Probably because of that lawyer oath of his – he keeps everybody else's secrets so he just ends up keeping his own, too." Nick heaved a sigh, and then smiled. "Yeah, I ought to go to New Orleans with him. It would help him out – and when he loosens up, Pappy can be a lot of fun."

Heath laughed. "He deserves some fun, and so do you, Brother Nick. Jarrod was right when he said you work too hard. McCall and I can keep this place running for a few weeks. You and Jarrod need to get off and be brothers again for a while."

Nick's smile faded a bit. "You don't think this Darby thing is gonna turn out to be a problem once we get on his turf, do you?"

"I don't know," Heath said, "but I wouldn't let that worry me. Jarrod was right about New Orleans. It's a big city. You probably won't see hide nor hair of him, and if you do – " Heath shrugged. "Jarrod handled him before."

"With a lot of help," Nick said.

"You'll be there to help him," Heath said. "Quit worrying and throwing up roadblocks. Go to New Orleans. Take your monkey suit."

Formal wear. Not Nick's favorite, though he knew he looked devastatingly handsome in formal wear. It itched, and he had a tendency to get coffee and liquor and food stains on it. Aw, but what the heck – "Yeah, you're right," Nick said. "Okay. New Orleans it is. Look out, Jack Darby. The Barkley boys are coming to your town now."

XXXXXXX

Jarrod arranged for the private family car to be available for the trip to New Orleans, and he and Nick were off in only a few days. Neither one of them was sure how well being cooped up together on a train for five days or so was going to work out, but they each arranged to bring along their own diversions, and they played cribbage and other card games. Being the more settled of the two, Jarrod made sure to keep tabs on Nick when it looked like he was about to climb out of his skin from pure cabin fever and take him, or send him, up to the lounge car for a drink and to socialize.

Jarrod's only problem was the trip through the Salt Flats and through Colorado, places that made him remember his trip with Beth from Denver to Stockton when they were first married, when the world was bright with promise that was gone now. Nick understood when Jarrod grew quiet and took his cigars out on the back of the car. Jarrod wanted to be alone, and while Nick didn't know for sure it was memories of Beth taking him off somewhere, he suspected it was. Nick left him alone, and as they left Denver and continued on to Chicago, Jarrod loosened up again.

It wasn't long before they were on the last leg of the trip, from Chicago down through the Mississippi flatlands. As they enjoyed a game of cribbage, a couple of cigars and a brandy after dinner, Jarrod said, "I have a suite for us reserved at a small hotel in the French Quarter. It's not far from where I'll be meeting with the men I have to meet about that sugar deal, and while I'm busy, there's plenty for you to do to keep yourself entertained."

"You trust me to stay out of trouble, huh?" Nick asked.

"No," Jarrod said with a sigh and a twinkle in his eyes. "I expect you'll get into trouble a few times on this trip. It's who you are, Nick. I'll come bail you out."

"I may surprise you, Pappy, and be on my good behavior," Nick said.

"Then you can bail me out," Jarrod said. "I trust Heath told you all about some of the things I got him into in New York."

"Well, the only trouble he thought you got him into was when you had to make a run for it to get away from some of the low life on the east side and that character who tried to rob you," Nick said. "The rest either wasn't your fault, or it was the good kind of trouble."

"You and I can look out for each other," Jarrod said. "And one thing I did learn from our dear Cousin Jack Darby and took to heart. I've got a thousand dollar bill sewed into the lining of my coat."

Nick's eyes grew wide.

Jarrod's eyes twinkled. "Mad money."

Nick began to laugh a little. "What other quirks did you pick up from your long-lost twin?"

"Nothing too damaging, I hope," Jarrod said.

Nick grew thoughtful. "I wonder how long it's gonna take before somebody mistakes you for him."

"Ah, Nick, that's not going to happen," Jarrod said. "New Orleans is too big a city, and we don't even know if Jack is there now or when he was there last. We won't run into any trouble."

Nick nearly choked on his brandy. "Sure we won't," he croaked as the brandy burned his throat.

Jarrod laughed. Secretly, he too wondered if he was going to get through this trip without Darby intervening one way or another. But he wasn't going to let it worry him too much. Time would tell – and maybe, in the back of his mind, he was looking forward to being as irritating to his cousin as his cousin had been to him when he came to California. It was a tantalizing idea, but one he wouldn't admit to Nick or anyone else, not yet, anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The train pulled into New Orleans on a bright, warm morning. It took little time to square away the removal of the private car and get it stored until it was time to go home. It took less time to get their bags to a hack and get into the French Quarter. Nick noted a happy smile on his brother's face at the sight of the old buildings, the sound of street vendors hawking their wares, the sound of music coming from a corner here and there.

Nick asked, "How many times have you been here, Jarrod?"

Jarrod thought about it. "Three or four, all of them several years ago on business for one client or another," he said. "Once the south started recovering from the war, the cotton and the sugar started shipping out again, and the rum started coming in. I haven't been here in a good seven or eight years, though."

"I wonder how you avoided Jack Darby on those trips," Nick mused.

Jarrod realized their cousin was still keeping Nick pre-occupied. "Maybe he wasn't living here back then. He's from Kentucky, you know, not New Orleans. It probably took him a while to get on track after the war, and he's probably not here a lot even now. He's probably out of town more than he's in it." Jarrod looked over at his brother, who was still looking around everywhere. He wondered if Nick was enjoying being the tourist, or was he looking for Darby? "Quit worrying about him, Nick," Jarrod said. "He's probably not even here."

"Hm," Nick said.

Soon the hack pulled up to the hotel, a small brick building on Chartres Street with saloons on either side of it. Music was already pouring out from one of them.

"They get going early around here," Nick said as they got out and he started fetching their bags.

Jarrod paid the hack driver, who was laughing. "Nick, they never _stop_ going around here. What's closing time?" Jarrod asked the hack driver.

"Ignored," the hack driver laughed. "If the police shut them down, they just take it down to the corner."

Jarrod tipped the man well and took his bag from Nick. In a few minutes they were in the hotel, checked in, and heading for their room on the ground floor, facing a courtyard. Tall windows let them look out at a sweet little garden. "Nice," Nick said.

"As long as it doesn't rain too hard," Jarrod said. "We'll be stuffing the towels under those windows if it does."

"Just like the rest of the south, huh?"

"Worse. New Orleans is below sea level. The water doesn't drain that well, even with the stormwater system, and you know the south. It can be bright and sunny on a morning like this and pouring by mid-afternoon."

And that was exactly what happened. After getting some lunch at a bar on Bourbon Street, Jarrod and Nick were moseying around town, listening to the music, grabbing a drink here and there, when the skies began to get dark and they had to make a run for it. They dashed into the nearest saloon, a place called La Rue, wet and laughing, and turned to be greeted by a cute little barmaid.

Who immediately slapped Jarrod across the face. "What - ?" Jarrod blurted.

Before Nick could even react, the barmaid was just about screaming into Jarrod's face. "You got one pit full of nerve, coming back here!" she said.

She was immediately joined by a big, burly black man who reached for Jarrod and started to pull him back out into the rain.

"Wait a minute!" Jarrod yelled and dug his heels in. "I've never been here before!"

Nick grabbed hold of Jarrod's other arm, and for a moment Jarrod felt like the wishbone of a chicken dinner. The big black man said to Nick, "I don't know who you are, but Darby ain't welcome here."

"I'm not Darby!" Jarrod blurted.

"Right," the big black man said and began to drag Jarrod out again.

"Now, hold on," Nick said and made a grab for the big black man, who was bigger than he was.

"Whoa, wait a minute," the barmaid said, screwed up her face, and looked more closely at Jarrod.

Jarrod shook the black man loose and quickly pulled up his left sleeve. "I've had this scar since I was six years old," he said to the barmaid, thinking she would probably know the answer to his next question. "Does Jack Darby have one?"

She looked confused, but she quietly admitted, "No. But you could have just gotten it."

Jarrod quickly pulled out his wallet and showed his identification paper. "My name is Jarrod Barkley. This is my brother Nick, and I look like Jack Darby because he's our cousin. We haven't seen him in a couple years and I don't even know where he is."

"You even sound like him," the barmaid said, and the big black man grabbed Jarrod's arm again.

Another man, white and about ten years older than Jarrod, came up to them, saying, "Hold on a minute, Mose."

The black man let go of Jarrod.

The white man stepped up to Jarrod and Nick and looked hard at them. "Where are you from?" he asked.

"California," Jarrod said. "Stockton, and San Francisco."

The man smiled. "I think you're right. I was in San Francisco about six months ago and I saw you on the waterfront. I thought you were Jack Darby and I went after you, but I lost you, and when I asked somebody if they saw you, they pointed you out in the street and said your name was something else."

"Barkley," Jarrod repeated.

The barmaid shook her head. "Jack doesn't have that scar, but you look and sound – " Her sentence wandered away unfinished.

The white man put his arm around Jarrod's shoulder and ushered him and Nick in. "Regardless, my friend, it's raining pretty hard out there. Come on in, have a drink."

The white man took Jarrod and Nick further inside and sat them down at a table. He waved to the barmaid, and she soon brought a bottle of whiskey and glasses as the Barkleys sat down with this white fellow. She still had an unwelcoming look for Jarrod.

"My name is Louis LaValle," the white man said. "I own this little place."

"Where Jack Darby isn't welcome, I take it," Nick said.

"Jack Darby is persona non grata for the time being," LaValle said. "He was here last week, and I'm afraid he led my barmaid astray for a few hours with some fancy words. He let her down hard, so she is not very happy with him, and therefore, neither am I."

"So he is in town," Jarrod said.

"The last I heard, but we haven't seen him since then, so there's no telling," LaValle said and poured drinks. "This is on me, boys. When did you arrive in our fair city?"

"This morning," Jarrod said. "I have some business to attend to. I brought my brother along to get the smell of cattle out of him."

"Ah, a rancher," LaValle said. And then it dawned on him. "The Barkleys of Stockton! I heard about you while I was out your way. Well, let me properly welcome you to New Orleans." He raised his glass in a toast. "Here's hoping there are no further slaps to your face waiting for you in town."

Nick grumbled a little as they clinked glasses. With the way this had just started out, he wasn't so sure he'd bank on that.

It rained for well over an hour, and the Barkley men sat and drank and talked to LaValle the whole time. LaValle gave them some recommendations about how to enjoy their time in New Orleans – where to eat, where to drink, where to find female company of whatever variety and where to take them to enjoy an evening. By the time the rain stopped, it was going on five o'clock, and time for the Barkleys to move on.

"Thanks for the advice, Monsieur LaValle," Jarrod said and shook the man's hand.

"I'll make one more," LaValle said. "Go to the Blue Parrot for some good Cajun food this evening. It's over on Royal, near Canal. If you'd like, I can send over to get you a reservation, say about eight?"

"I know the place," Jarrod said. "I was there a few years ago. But is it someplace I'll get another slap in the face being taken as Darby?"

LaValle laughed. "Mr. Barkley, I can't say one way or another, because I don't know where Jack's been and when, and you do look and sound just like him. Take your chances, though. If you've been there before, you've got a leg up. It's still got that same famous food. Do you want me to make you a reservation?"

Jarrod nodded.

"Ladies for company?"

"Not tonight," Jarrod said. "I have business tomorrow morning I need to prepare for."

"Well, come to me when you need to. I at least know who you are – or more important, who you're not."

Nick shook the man's hand too, and then he and Jarrod went on their way. The big black bouncer, Mose, stepped up beside LaValle after he'd walked the Barkleys to the door. "Would you like me to get a runner, Mr. LaValle?" he asked.

LaValle nodded. "And tell him to let the Blue Parrot know who's coming."

"You think that really was Jack Darby?"

LaValle sighed. "No, it wasn't. Put the reservation in the name of Barkley. But it will be interesting to find out what happens when they're over there tonight. I can't guarantee anybody but me will believe that was Jarrod Barkley."

LaValle smiled to himself. He knew with 100% certainty the man who had just left was not Jack Darby, because he knew Jack Darby well, and he knew where he was right now and what he was doing, because LaValle was involved in it too. LaValle figured this guy Jarrod Barkley might be needing some help before too long, or he might end up being of some help. Whichever it might turn out to be, LaValle was ready for it, and even looking forward to it.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"So I don't have to put on my monkey suit for this Blue Parrot place?" Nick said as he thumbed through the clothes he had unpacked. He had brought formal wear, and a couple suits, but other than that, he had only more casual shirts, pants and a couple jackets.

"No, a business suit will do," Jarrod said. He had already shed the clothing he'd been wearing in the rain for his darker business suit.

"How long do you think your negotiating session will take tomorrow?" Nick asked.

"I don't know," Jarrod said. "You're free to nose around town without me while I'm busy if you like. You can't get into a lot of trouble in the daytime."

"But you can at night, I take it."

Jarrod leveled a serious gaze at him. "This town is rougher than San Francisco, even rougher than New York in places."

"Like where?"

"If I tell you that, you'll go looking for them."

"Not without my big brother to nursemaid me," Nick said with an intentionally lame grin.

Jarrod gave a small laugh. "Watch out for gambling houses at night. Men watch for men who are winning and rob them before they can get to a hack. And don't go thinking you can handle that. Gang activity is nasty sometimes – AND – "

Nick looked up.

"Watch out if you find a lady friend," Jarrod said. "Even if she's on the up and up and not about to rob you, the hotel dicks around here work hard at keeping the good hotels on the straight and narrow. They'll beat you up if you even look like you have a professional girl with you. And if you're a stranger like you are, they'll have a sharper eye on you."

"How much work do you have to do tonight?" Nick asked.

"Not a lot."

"Tell you what. After we have dinner, why don't we find a nice quiet gentlemen's club for an hour or so, and then I'll come back here with you. That way I don't get out of your sight and you won't worry about me."

Jarrod's eyes twinkled for a moment. Nick thinking that Jarrod thought he couldn't handle himself? Not a chance. But Nick was out of his element here. A night of getting him oriented couldn't hurt. "All right," Jarrod said. "Sounds like a plan."

A plan that went haywire fairly quickly. The Blue Parrot was not far away. The rain had stopped, but the streets were still pretty wet and water was dripping down from rooftops above. Jarrod and Nick stepped inside the Blue Parrot and were brushing some water off their jackets when the maître d' met them, looked at them – and slapped Jarrod right across the face.

"Hey!" Nick said and grabbed for him.

"What are you doing here?" the maître d' asked. "I told you never to come here again."

"I'm not Jack Darby," Jarrod said quickly. "Let him go, Nick."

Nick let go as another man came toward them. The new man asked, "Mr. Barkley?"

"Barkley," Jarrod confirmed.

The new man shook his head and said, "Yes, you do look like Darby, but I do remember you, Mr. Barkley. You were here some years ago."

"Mr Fitzsimmons, isn't it? Did LaValle send you a message?" Jarrod asked.

Fitzsimmons nodded. "LaValle said you were coming and vouched for you – but my man here must have forgotten for a moment." He glared at the maître d'.

Both Jarrod and Nick wondered what relationship Darby must have had with this young man who had just slapped Jarrod across the face, but they decided not to think about it. The maître d' said, "My apologies, Monsieur. I did forget. You look so much like Mr. Darby."

"It's all right," Jarrod said, rubbing his jaw, wondering how many more times he was going to get slapped across the face on this visit.

"Come with me," Fitzsimmons said, and Jarrod and Nick followed him to a fine table and gave them menus.

Nick was smirking as they sat down, amused by his older brother being taken for Darby yet again, and by who had slapped him this time.

Fitzsimmons leaned in and said quietly, "Don't read anything into Marcel's reaction to you. He may prefer the company of other men, but Darby doesn't, at least that I know of. Darby does, however, owe Marcel money."

"The great common denominator," Jarrod said.

"Indeed," Fitzsimmons said. "When you're ready to order, I'll have a bottle of our finest French sent to you, my compliments. Enjoy your dinner."

They did, and there was no more trouble about Jarrod being taken as Darby. The Barkley brothers did feel a little uneasy when Marcel gave Jarrod a very pleasant smile when they left. Turning to head for Canal Street, Nick said, "Well, shall we see who's gonna hit you next?"

"I hope it's somebody left-handed so the other side of my face takes the hit for a change," Jarrod said.

When they got to the gentlemen's club on Canal Street, Jarrod was pleased to see a familiar and welcoming face at the door. "Mr. Barkley!" the big doorman said. "Welcome back!"

"It's been a long time, Michael," Jarrod said and tipped the man as he opened the door. "I'm surprised you remember me."

"I try to remember everyone," Michael said, "although you're a bit tougher because there's a fellow around here who looks just like you."

"Jack Darby, I know," Jarrod said. "My cousin. This is my brother, Nick. He looks nothing like me."

"I gotta ask," Nick said, "how did you know my brother wasn't Jack Darby? A lot of other people seem to be having trouble telling them apart."

"I can tell a westerner from a southerner by the way he carries himself," Michael said. "Southern gentlemen can be a bit on the stiff side. Westerners are more relaxed. And I get paid to tell who's coming in the door."

Jarrod pushed up his sleeve and showed the scar on his left arm. "Just in case you ever need to know," he said.

Michael smiled. "If you recall, Mr. Barkley, the last time you were here and you had to rush out, your jacket and tie were off and your sleeves rolled up, and I noticed that scar."

Nick's eyes went wide and the smirk returned. "You had to rush out?"

Jarrod wasn't about to elaborate on that. "In my younger days, Nick," was all he said.

He and Nick went inside, found a seat in the smoking bar, and spent the next hour smoking cigars and savoring brandy. A couple of the ladies who worked here joined them for a few minutes, but only for conversation. For the most part, Jarrod and Nick talked and planned out the next day. Nick wanted to scope out a couple casinos in the daylight while Jarrod was doing the job he came here to do. They also talked about the kind of female companionship they would look for while they were here. Jarrod issued a warning and pointed out that they could buy some "protection" here at the gentleman's club if needed, but he tried to steer Nick toward enjoying the company of women who would not get them into trouble of any kind. "There's a lot of different kinds of trouble to get into in this town if you choose the wrong woman," Jarrod warned.

Nick didn't need further warning. "I'll be careful," he said.

After about an hour, they headed back to their hotel, their bellies full and their heads light with liquor and relaxation. They took a long way back, passing bar after bar, restaurant after restaurant. Jarrod pointed out where some of the gambling houses were, told Nick what he knew about whatever place they passed. Nick was a little surprised, but then felt a little pleased that his Pappy knew as much as he knew. It was good to know Jarrod would kick back every now and then.

There were no more slaps in the face for Jarrod that night, although the Barkley men had to dodge a fight that spilled out of a bar into the street, and when they got back to their hotel, they got a nasty eye from the hotel dick in the lobby. Jarrod noticed, pointed to Nick, and said, "Check with the desk clerk. This is my brother."

The dick kept an eye on them as they went back to their room. Nick shook his head. "This is one sinful town, isn't it?" he asked when they were out of earshot of the dick.

"Isn't it?" Jarrod said.

As soon as they were in their suite, Nick got rid of the necktie and flopped down into an armchair. "Do you think Darby might actually be in town?" he asked.

"I don't know," Jarrod said, loosening his tie but leaving it on. "It seems he's been here recently, but whether he's here now, there's no telling. I don't think Jack lets any grass grow under his feet."

"Considering the trouble he gets in, staying in one place could get him killed."

"Maybe," Jarrod said. "Just as long as it doesn't get me killed. It's nice to know I've got Michael and Fitzsimmons and LaValle convinced of who I really am. Remember where they are if it turns out I need them."

"I better start making a list," Nick said.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Jarrod's meeting was set for ten o'clock the next morning. The Barkleys breakfasted together before he took off. Nick promised to be good while his big brother was gone, told Jarrod he was going to scope out the gambling houses but not lose much, if any money, this early in the day. Unsure as to when he would be finished with his work, Jarrod asked Nick to check back at the hotel at around 12:30, just in case, but then again at 5:00 if they hadn't met up by then. Then they went their separate ways.

There were many gambling houses in New Orleans – most of them not all that large. Faro, twenty-one and poker were the main games played, and Nick felt pretty competent at them all. What he didn't feel confident about was the honesty of any of these houses. Jarrod had warned him to beware of the house, as well as of the men who might follow him out if he won at any of the tables. Nick decided this day would be a good one to do his research, watch what was happening, watch who the players were this early in the day.

He found a good spot at a bar and settled in, able to watch a poker game to his left and a twenty-one table to his right. This early in the day, only the two tables were going, but Nick nursed a post-breakfast drink and kept a close eye on the proceedings. He didn't see any cheating going on at either table, but not a lot of money was changing hands either – it just seemed to be shifting around and settling back down where it started out. He watched more twenty-one than poker, mainly because he did not play the game very often. He was able to discern some of the strategies of the game. He even considered sitting in for a few hands, but then he checked his watch and saw it was nearly noon. He decided to head back to the hotel.

He came across several ladies plying their trade this early in the morning, gave them a smile and remembered where they were and who the best-looking ones were. He even flirted with one or two, but did not take them up on their offers. He was almost back at the hotel when he saw Jarrod heading that way, not far in front of him. He nearly called to him.

But Jarrod kept right on walking by the hotel. Then he turned a corner, and Nick realized something – that wasn't Jarrod.

Nick hustled down the street and turned the corner, but Jack Darby was gone already. He'd either turned another corner or entered some building somewhere, but he was gone. Nick turned to go to the hotel and immediately ran into Jarrod coming his way. "I was right behind you," Jarrod said. "Why did you take off in such a hurry down this way?"

Nick sighed. "I just saw Darby."

"No," Jarrod said, flabberghasted, then frustrated. "I was sure he wasn't in town."

"I just saw him go up Conti Street," Nick said, "but he got away from me."

"You weren't going to stop him and say hello, were you?"

"No. I just wanted to keep tabs on him."

"Did he see you?"

"I don't think so."

Jarrod sighed. "Well, at least we know where he is. Come on. Let's go around the corner to Arturo's and get something to eat – unless you already ate."

"Are you done for the day?"

Jarrod smiled. "Done for good. I just have to draw up the paperwork and take it to them in the morning. I'm borrowing one of their secretaries to type it tomorrow, we'll sign it and it will all be done. And I'll be on vacation with you, Brother Nick."

"Let's just hope Darby doesn't find his way into our vacation."

They went toward Arturo's together, but were stopped by a couple of ladies plying their trade on the corner. Nick smiled a flirty smile, but then one of the women hauled off and slapped Jarrod across the face. He was completely surprised and didn't have time to block it, but he thought, _well at least she's left handed. _"I'm not Jack Darby," he said quickly.

"The hell you're not," the girl said.

"Look," Jarrod said, beginning to get annoyed at the slaps he was getting. "Jack Darby is my cousin. We look alike. And if you were paying attention, you would have seen him go by just a minute ago and wearing different clothes than I'm wearing." Jarrod wasn't sure about the clothing part – he just used that as part of his defense.

The girls now hesitated. One of them glanced up the street.

Jarrod pushed his sleeve up. "I'll bet you know him well enough to know that he doesn't have this scar."

Now both the girls looked like they were believing him, but before they could say anything, Jarrod pushed his sleeve back down and walked on. Smirking a bit, tipping his hat to the girls, Nick followed along.

Nobody slapped Jarrod when they entered Arturo's and sat down, but Nick was still smirking. "It's not funny," Jarrod said. A waiter came and took their drink orders. Jarrod was feeling like he needed something like a Sazerac. Nick ordered one, too, even though he'd never had one.

"I'm sorry, Pappy," Nick said, laughing a bit. "But it is. And what's even funnier is that so many people in this town want Darby's blood."

Jarrod conceded that. "Our cousin creates havoc wherever he goes, but I'm tired of paying for it."

"Well, you can't help it if people mistake you for him. There's nothing he can do about it either. It's way too late for him to live a clean life."

"He's gonna get himself shot again one of these days," Jarrod said, remembering the shooting that brought Jack Darby into their lives back in California. "Or get me shot."

Nick said, serious now, "Yeah, I worry about that too, but I'll stick close now that your business here is just about done. Let's just enjoy our little vacation. Maybe nothing else will happen."

The waiter brought their drinks, and they began to relax. Once they ordered and were eating they were easing off even more. Nick asked, "So what are we going to do with ourselves today?"

"Did you scope out anything interesting this morning?" Jarrod asked.

"Couple of places," Nick said. "I wouldn't mind finding a good poker game or some twenty-one."

"Where did you check them out?"

"A little place on Canal, south of Chartres. I stopped at a place on Royal, too. They both looked fairly honest."

Jarrod chuckled. "Fairly honest may be the best we can get around here, but I know a place on Bourbon, in the Absinthe House hotel at Bienville. It's pretty clean. It gets lively early in the afternoon, really gets going later in the evening. Has good music anytime. Why don't we go check it out after we eat?"

"How about dinner tonight? I sure wouldn't mind a little female company."

"How much female company?"

Nick knew what Jarrod was asking. He smiled a little. "Maybe we ought to go back to the gentlemen's club we went to last night – in case I need a little protection."

Jarrod grinned. "Don't do anything around here without it, Brother Nick, and don't get your company off the street, no matter how pretty she is. Let's go do a little drinking and a little gambling. Then I'll take a break and finish the contract work I have to do, then we'll go over to that gentlemen's club and talk to Michael."

"The doorman? Is he the best contact?"

"Michael isn't the doorman for no reason. He collects information, passes it on to the bosses inside – but he still has the best recall of anybody around there. If you want certain female companionship, he can get you the kind that will keep you out of trouble, of any sort. But remember – you won't get her into the hotel – the club has a sort of an annex for 'companionship.' Let Michael take care of the place for you if the annex is full."

"What if all I want is company, not anything I need 'protection' for?"

"Michael can handle that too."

Nick shook his head. "And to think, Brother Jarrod. I used to look up to you as a paragon of virtue."

Now Jarrod laughed. "And you always scoff at my secret keeping. I keep a few of them for better reasons than others."

"Mother finding out?"

"Mother has no illusions about who her sons are," Jarrod said, "but we best not push it into her face. She can still whack us good, like she did when we were kids."

They enjoyed their lunch together, were happily fed and lubricated after an hour or so, and then got up to leave. Jarrod tipped generously as he paid the bill, and he and Nick left to head for that gambling house on Bourbon Street.

What they didn't notice was the man who had been sitting alone at a nearby table, who got up and followed them.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The Absinthe House had a cozy gambling house on its ground floor, one that attracted both locals and the travelers who were coming into town for business or fun. It was going on two o'clock in the afternoon when Jarrod and Nick came in. The place was not packed, but every table was up and running, and the cigar smoke was already hanging in the air. The Barkley men looked around – and they each admitted privately that they were looking for whoever was going to step up and slap Jarrod next, but no one did.

Nick saw a twenty-one table with a couple spots open, and he and Jarrod took them and were playing as soon as a new deck of cards came into the game. The dealer was a nondescript man, dark-haired, who never looked up for more than a second at a time. Jarrod and Nick played for almost an hour, Nick breaking pretty even and Jarrod coming out a few dollars ahead. After that, they switched to a poker game, where the luck was reversed – Nick came out ahead. They drank Sazeracs and spent another hour before Jarrod suggested they head back to the hotel so he could finalize the paperwork he needed to hand off to the secretary in the morning. Nick opted to leave him to himself while he familiarized himself more with the gentlemen's club they had been to the night before.

"Just be careful," Jarrod warned with a slap on his back, as he went into the hotel and Nick went further on to Canal Street.

Neither one of them had yet spotted the man who had been following them since Arturo's. The man kept to the corner of Chartres and Conti streets, watching Nick walk on, then waiting a bit before he followed Jarrod into the hotel. Once inside there, he asked for "Mr. Barkley's room" and was directed further back on the first floor. In a moment, he knocked.

Jarrod had just shed his jacket and tie when the knock came. He was a bit surprised – if it was Nick, he'd have a key and just let himself in. Jarrod opened the door cautiously to the stranger. "Yes?"

The man held up a badge. "Mr. Barkley, my name is Tom DuMont," he said. "I'm a city policeman, and I was wondering if I could have a word with you."

"What about?" Jarrod asked. "I'm pretty busy at the moment."

"About John Darby," the officer said.

Jarrod sighed. Well, at least this man knew he wasn't Darby. "What about him?" Jarrod asked.

"He's in a bit of trouble, and I was hoping to get your help with him."

"He's always in a bit of trouble," Jarrod said.

"This one's not entirely his fault," DuMont said. "If I might have just a few minutes of your time – or I suppose we could talk down at the station."

Jarrod just about flared up, then remembered where he was. Police in this town liked to throw their weight around and would pull you in whether they had cause to arrest you or not. It was infuriating, but Jarrod knew this policeman had him over a barrel. He opened the door wider, saying, "Come in."

XXXXXXX

Nick ended up spending nearly two hours at the gentlemen's club, smoking cigars, nursing a brandy, and enjoying the company of a lovely woman in the "annex." He felt very content when he finally left and made his way back to the hotel. The contentment vanished when he got to their suite and found Jarrod, drinking alone, papers spread out on the desk and looking anything but finished. Jarrod was in shirtsleeves now, not smoking, looking out the window at the courtyard Nick had just come across. Something was wrong.

"Hey," Nick said, closing the door behind him. "What's going on? You haven't finished your work."

Jarrod turned, looking sullen and angry and trapped, all at the same time. "I had a visit from one of the local constabulary," he said.

Now Nick was alarmed. "About what?"

"About our cousin."

Nick almost growled. "What about him?"

"Take a guess."

"He's in trouble."

Jarrod nodded. "Not so much of his own doing this time. The police have gotten him into trouble, and he's dug himself in deeper."

Nick undid his tie and took his jacket off. "What business is it of ours?"

Jarrod took a deep breath and sat down in an armchair. "When you saw Jack today, he was giving a policeman the slip. He did it pretty well, too. Then the cop saw you and saw me approach you and, of course, surprised the heck out of himself. He followed us to Arturo's, was sitting at the next table over, heard us talking and figured out who we were."

"So?"

"Darby was working with the police – or at least, he was supposed to be. They had some charges on him they were willing to drop if he'd help them in getting to a local hit man. Jack made all the preliminary contacts with intermediaries and set up a meeting with this hit man tonight, to hire him to kill a local businessman. Money was supposed to change hands and the police would arrest the guy as soon as Jack paid him, but Jack bailed at the last minute. They can't find him."

Nick scowled, angrily. "Let me guess. They want you to impersonate Jack and make this payoff tonight."

Jarrod nodded.

"I hope you turned them down."

Jarrod shook his head. "Couldn't."

Now Nick was angry with his brother as well as the police. "What do you mean, you couldn't?"

Jarrod finally looked up at his brother. "Remember that paragon of virtue I'm not?"

"Yeah," Nick said suspiciously.

Jarrod looked into his drink again. "Well, in my younger days here I got into a bit a trouble. Nothing terribly serious but I put a police officer in the hospital after a fight and had to serve five days in jail. This cop who came to see me today knew about that, and he threatened me with either finding something on me or making something up if I didn't cooperate."

Nick sighed. "If you served your time, it shouldn't matter."

Jarrod waved his hand in the air. "It matters, and like I said, if there wasn't something to find, they'd make something up. This is a crooked town, Nick."

Nick sat down on the sofa. "I'm getting that picture. What are you supposed to do tonight?"

"There's a fairly large gambling house at the foot of Canal Street. I need to be there by nine, pretending to be Jack Darby. This hit man is supposed to contact me, and I pay him off, and they arrest him. Simple as that."

"You don't believe in simple."

"No, I don't. This hit man breezed into town recently and has gotten a reputation for himself. He's supposed to have killed two men already. Darby has supposed to have gotten to him through two other middle men. He probably knows what Darby looks like but Darby doesn't know him."

"So you just do what? Play some poker and wait for somebody to say hello, I'm your hit man?"

"Twenty-one," Jarrod corrected him.

Nick rolled his eyes, trying to think of an out, but all he could come up with was, "We could just leave town now, you know."

Jarrod shook his head. "I still need to finish that contract, and besides, the next train doesn't leave until tomorrow morning."

"So you're just gonna go along with this? Pretend to be Darby and let yourself be the set-up man this hit man is going to remember?"

Jarrod looked at Nick, this time with a very slight smile. "I won't be the man he remembers. Darby will."

"Still, Jarrod, that's a helluva risk."

"It's either go through with this or let the cops pull me in."

"What are you going to do for payoff money?"

Jarrod pointed to the desk and an envelope lying there. "The police are covering that."

"And you haven't finished your work on that contract."

"It's pretty much done. I just have to get the papers back in order and drop them off at the secretary in the morning, then do the signing tomorrow afternoon. We can leave town in a couple of days if we want."

"If we want?"

Jarrod shrugged. "If this works, there won't be any reason we'd have to leave town. It'll all be over and done with tonight."

Nick chortled. "And you think it's gonna work that smooth?"

"No," Jarrod said, "but a man can hope."

"All right," Nick gave in. "If you're set on doing this, you do it, but I'm going with you."

"At a distance," Jarrod said. "I don't know when I'll pick up whoever it is who will be watching me. You leave here at least ten minutes after I do, and you keep your distance once you get to that gambling house."

"Where is this place, anyway?"

"The foot of Canal Street. It's called Picard's. I'll leave here about eight, you be behind me. Get yourself something to eat there."

Nick nodded. "But I'll be keeping an eye on you from a distance."

"I don't think this is dangerous, Nick. Just annoying."

"If I ever get my hands on Darby again – "

"You'll have to get out of my way, because I'm gonna have him first."

"There's one thing I'll bet you and the police haven't considered – what if Darby actually shows up tonight? What if there's suddenly two of you in the gambling house?"

Jarrod nodded. "I've thought of it. But you know Jack. Do you think he's suddenly going to have a change of heart and put himself in harm's way for the cops?"

Nick sighed. "No."

"Well, then," Jarrod said. "There we are. Our evening is planned for us. At least we'll have something to NOT tell Mother about – unless you had such an afternoon."

Nick scowled. "I did – but it's lost its luster now. Blast you, Jack Darby!"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Jarrod somehow managed to concentrate on finalizing the paperwork for his contract and was soon ready for the next day. Being ready for tonight was something else entirely. Nick paced a lot – Jarrod tried to hustle him out for a while so he could do his pacing outside, but Nick refused to leave him. The time went by quickly, though, and soon they had dressed and were ready for whatever was going to happen at Picard's.

Jarrod put the envelope of cash the policeman had given him into the inner breast pocket of his suit jacket just as he was planning to leave. "Remember, ten minutes," he said to Nick. "Just go over to Canal Street, turn left, and keep walking until you see Picard's. It's fairly large, you can't miss it. Look for me at one of the twenty-one tables."

Nick nodded. "Are you armed?"

Jarrod shook his head.

"Not even a derringer?"

Jarrod shook his head again. "There will be police officers watching me before I even get in the door. There's not much danger to me here, Nick."

"Oh, yeah? What if this guy asks you for details about who he's supposed to hit?"

"I don't have any," Jarrod said, "but I'm not supposed to. Jack was supposed to be acting as a middle man, just setting up the payoff. The instructions are supposed to be in this envelope with the money."

"What if this hit man realizes you're not Jack? What if this hit man sends another middle man?"

Jarrod gave a tiny smile to his brother. "You're gonna brood over everything that can go wrong, aren't you?"

"Somebody better," Nick said.

Jarrod ignored the questions. "Don't come armed," he said. "They don't like weapons in the place. Just follow me in, find what table I'm at and then sit at another one if you want to keep watch. This all ought to be over in an hour or so. I can put my contract to rest tomorrow, and you and I can enjoy an evening with a couple nice ladies I'll set us up with tomorrow night."

Nick smiled, but uneasily. "You just watch out for yourself tonight. Tomorrow can take care of itself."

Jarrod gave Nick's arm a reassuring slap and went out.

Neither one of them was ready for what actually happened that night. Jarrod followed instructions, walked down to Picard's and found a spot at a twenty-one table, and soon just enjoyed himself playing and actually winning a little money. At one point he caught sight of Nick passing nearby and saw him find a spot at another table. Jarrod looked around for his policeman contact DuMont, too, but didn't see him. He didn't know what other police might be around. As nine o'clock drew close, he kept one eye on the game and another on Nick, deciding the police could take care of themselves.

And then it happened. Nothing. No one approached him, no one who sat down with him at the table seemed to have anything to say to him. All Jarrod got was a passing, "Hello, Jack," from one fellow who he couldn't tell was Darby's friend or foe. Nine-thirty, ten, ten-thirty, eleven all rolled around, and absolutely nothing happened.

Jarrod saw Nick get up from the nearby table and start roaming around. Jarrod looked again and finally spotted DuMont, but the man didn't do anything but sit down at another table and play cards. Eleven thirty, midnight rolled around and still nothing happened.

Something had gone wrong. Maybe this hit man had been by and somehow knew that Jarrod was not Darby. If so, he now probably suspected this was all a set-up and was gone. Whether he would be back or not was anyone's guess.

Jarrod finally got up from playing twenty-one, now about two hundred dollars richer. As he did, DuMont also got up, and as they passed each other, the officer just said, "Go home."

Jarrod looked around for Nick and saw him at the bar, drinking a beer. Jarrod nodded toward the exit, letting Nick know he was leaving. Remembering that a hit man was not the only threat around here, that a man leaving here with money could get robbed out in the street fairly easily, Nick followed along at a closer distance than he had come in here in.

But nothing happened on the street either. This whole evening had been one whole lot of nothing happening, except that Jarrod and Nick both had more money than they had come in with. Jarrod got back to the hotel and into their suite, and Nick was not far behind.

"What the hell happened?" was the first thing Nick asked.

"I don't know," Jarrod said as he took his jacket off. "I don't know if this hit man saw me and decided I wasn't Darby, or if he never came in the first place or what, but nobody ever contacted me. I spotted my policeman friend eventually and he just said to leave."

"Waste of a perfectly good evening, thanks again to Darby," Nick muttered.

"I made some money," Jarrod said with a shrug, and then paused as he took his tie off. "I wonder if Darby has suddenly surfaced again."

"I didn't see him at Picard's, and I was looking," Nick said.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Jarrod and Nick looked at each other suspiciously before Jarrod went to the door and opened it a crack. The police officer who had roped Jarrod into all this stood there. Jarrod let him in.

"Nick, this is Officer DuMont," Jarrod said and closed the door behind the policeman. "This is my brother, Nick Barkley. What the heck happened?"

"Nothing," DuMont said. "We don't know why."

"So where does that leave us?" Nick asked.

"I'm not sure," DuMont said. "But it looks like you'll have to be John Darby for a while longer."

"Oh, no," Jarrod said. "I went along with you tonight. I'm done being Darby."

"Whether I twist your arm at it or not, you know people around here are going to continue to take you for Darby, especially since he's disappeared," DuMont said. "All I want you to do is play along. Just introduce your brother here as your cousin and keep answering to Darby for a while longer."

"No," Jarrod said.

DuMont sighed. "We can talk about this at the station in the morning if you like."

"I have work to do in the morning."

"So do I, and I'm sorry, but it involves you."

"Look – " Nick started.

But DuMont held his hand up. "You're going to be taken for Darby. There's nothing you can do to avoid it. I or another officer will be tailing you everywhere tomorrow. Now, you can keep playing along and do it with a police presence behind you, or you can refuse and I'll pull the protection, but you're going to be taken for Darby. You're in this whether you want to be or not."

Jarrod knew he had to swallow this. "Do you expect this hit man to make contact tomorrow?"

"I don't know," DuMont said. "So far, I haven't found anybody who caught sight of anybody who might be him tonight, so we don't have any idea of where he is or what he's up to."

"You know what he looks like?" Nick asked.

"A rough idea only," DuMont said. "We just have never been able to get the goods on him."

"Why haven't you strong-armed him out of town?" Jarrod asked, disgusted with all the threats the police made against him but apparently would not use on the hit man.

DuMont said, "He's murdered men, but we can't prove it. We can't prove he took money to do it. Strong-arming him out of town is not what we want to do. We want to hang him or get him in prison for a long time, not pass him on to some other city's streets, and for that, Attorney Barkley, you know we need evidence."

Jarrod backed down off his anger. "You think he'll be back."

"He could resurface at any time, or not, but go along with us and we'll have you covered if he does. Keep that envelope of money on you, just in case he does."

"Great," Jarrod said. "I just love wandering around this town with a lot of money on me." He remembered the thousand dollars sewn into his coat too. He was loaded.

"Nobody will know," DuMont said.

Nick and Jarrod looked at each other. Even Nick's eyes said that Jarrod had little choice in this matter. "What about the real Darby?" Nick asked. "Has he turned up?"

DuMont shook his head. "Knowing Jack, he probably left town after he gave us the slip. Why he did that at this point, I don't know. Maybe it had something to do with our hit man catching wise to us. I don't know."

"You can never know what Darby's going to do or why," Jarrod said. "All right, I'll keep playing along for at least another day, but you know there are people in this town who know I'm not Darby, too. That might mess things up for you."

"We'll have to see," DuMont said. "It could be this is all over already. It could be our hit man has gone back underground and we'll have to think of some other way to get him. I don't know."

Jarrod and Nick gave each other looks again, and Nick finally just said, "I'm going to bed," and headed for his bedroom.

DuMont turned to leave. Reaching for the door, he said, "If anything turns chancy on you, just wave your hand over your head and a police officer will come to you."

Jarrod sighed as DuMont opened the door, and he took hold of the knob as DuMont went out. "I'm gonna want something in return for this," Jarrod said. "Like a free pass if my brother or I get into any legal trouble on this trip."

DuMont paused and smiled. "Were you planning to?"

"This is New Orleans," Jarrod said. That was all he needed to say.

DuMont said, "We'll see what we can do," and he left.

Jarrod closed the door behind him and stood there for a moment. Alone and in the quiet, he half cursed Darby again, but then let it go. He owned this project himself now, he knew. He couldn't blame Darby for it anymore, because he had made decisions himself. He glanced up at the closed door of Nick's bedroom, and he hoped he had made the right decisions for both of them.

Even though it wasn't like he'd ever had any real choice.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Jarrod took the draft contract to the secretary in the morning and arranged for a three o'clock meeting where the documents would be signed. Then the work he came here to do would be finished. The rest of what he had gotten himself into – that he didn't know.

After delivering the paperwork, Jarrod was to join Nick at a local restaurant for a breakfast. He found Nick relaxing at a table on the sidewalk and reading a newspaper. Jarrod was heading toward him to sit down with him when a working woman came up to him on the street – and slapped him across the face.

"Jack Darby, I ought to kill you!" she said loudly enough for the whole block to hear.

Nick looked up at his brother, now open-mouthed and holding his cheek, and Nick laughed. Jarrod almost said that he wasn't Jack Darby, but then he remembered he had a police tail nearby who was probably hearing all this, and he remembered he was going to play along. "My good woman," Jarrod said, "please forgive me if I have transgressed in any way with you, but alas, I cannot remember – "

She slapped him again, saying, "Of course you don't remember. You never remember anyone but yourself!" And she kept on walking.

Jarrod made his way to Nick's table and sat down with him. Nick folded his newspaper and put it away, still grinning from ear to ear. He pointed to the pot of coffee on his table. "Have some coffee, Jack," he said quietly. "It might help take the sting out."

Jarrod glared. "Don't start enjoying this calling me 'Jack' business," he said, just as quietly.

Nick shrugged. "I might as well get some fun out of this. Did you have any other trouble this morning?"

"No, and I haven't picked up who my shadow is, either," Jarrod said, pouring coffee into a cup in front of him.

"I got a big feeling that both Darby and our hit man have left town," Nick said. "I'll bet the hit man caught on somehow and this impersonation you're doing will end up being pointless."

"I hope you're right," Jarrod said and sipped his coffee. Then he started thinking ahead. "Now, I don't see any reason we can't go with my original plan for this evening. We can get Michael to put us together with a couple of lovelies and take them dancing. You'll just have to decide what kind of lovely you want. I'm staying on the straight and narrow myself. I don't want to risk our hit man or one of my cop shadows barging in on a private moment."

"Probably a good idea," Nick said. "Michael can get us straight and narrow lovelies?"

"Michael can get us anything – including sixteen-year-old boys if we were so inclined."

Nick whistled low. "This is a nasty town, isn't it?"

"The nastiest."

A waitress came over and Jarrod ordered some grits and eggs. He hadn't eaten at all before taking care of his official business this morning. As usual in New Orleans, the morning sky was clear and warm and a leisurely breakfast al fresco was very relaxing. Jarrod explained he had to go back to work at three. Nick explained he could entertain himself, and they agreed to meet back at the hotel at about four. They planned to meet with Michael and arrange for their evening company and dance after leaving here, and they would take the ladies to dinner at about seven and the dance at nine. Formal attire, stone cold sober when they picked up the ladies.

"We have a plan," Nick said.

"Let's hope we can keep it," Jarrod said.

XXXXXXXX

Making arrangements with Michael didn't take long, and then it was back up to the Absinthe House to play a little poker. Jarrod and Nick took separate tables as they played, and it was there that Jarrod finally spotted the man he thought was his police shadow. The man was alone, wandering about but not sitting down to gamble. It wasn't DuMont, and for a moment Jarrod wondered if in fact he wasn't a cop, but was the hit man.

"Your call, Mr. Darby," one of the other players reminded him and drew Jarrod's attention back to the game. Jarrod called and stayed in the hand.

"You're kind of distracted today, Jack," one of the other players said. "That's not like you."

"Well, you know how it is," Jarrod said. He had caught the man's name – Pillory – and figured out he was someone Darby knew but only at the gambling tables, so he could keep up casual conversation. "Life gets distracting sometimes."

Pillory put in his bet, and the dealer beside him dealt another round of cards in the seven card stud game. "Is that cop following you?" Pillory asked.

Jarrod looked a little surprised Pillory had caught on. Now everyone at the table started looking around. Jarrod smiled a sneaky little smile. "I thought he might be following you, Pillory. I'm not in any particular trouble I'm aware of."

Two other men at the table chuckled.

"Nothing more than the usual," Jarrod added.

The game continued. Pillory won that hand. As it finished and the dealer pulled the cards in to shuffle again, Jarrod stretched a bit and looked around for Nick. Nick had moved to a twenty-one table. Jarrod could see he had a sandwich and a beer. Jarrod checked his watch and decided he was peckish, too. He waved a waitress over and asked her to fetch him a sandwich and a beer, while Pillory and one other man did the same.

Jarrod checked his watch. It was just after two now and he realized he was going to have to hang things up in half an hour or so. "Gentlemen, I have a three o'clock appointment, so if you want to take any more of my money, we will have to finish things up."

"You're ahead by fifty," Pillory said.

The dealer dealt. Jarrod said, "I can lose that in a hurry."

While he took a bite of sandwich, Jarrod noticed someone else just wandering around, like the man he suspected was a cop. He wondered again for a moment if this was another cop, or was it the hit man who hadn't turned up the night before. In about half an hour, when he got up to head for his three o'clock appointment, Jarrod found out. The first man Jarrod suspected was a cop intentionally bumped into him.

"I beg your pardon," Jarrod said, bowing.

The man said, "I think you've picked up our hit man. Are you leaving?"

Jarrod said, "I have an appointment."

"Tall, dark-haired fellow at the bar right now," the cop said. "You go on out. If he follows you, I won't be far behind."

Jarrod nodded, then he went to the table where Nick was still playing twenty-one. He leaned over, saying quietly, "Cousin Nick, I'm heading for my appointment, and I will have two sets of company. Tall fellow at the bar is our hit man."

Nick's eyes flashed. "Is the cop here?"

"The guy I just bumped into. He'll follow if the hit man follows me. You follow him. I'll walk slow once I get outside."

Nick nodded and Jarrod left, his awareness level a lot higher than it had been when he came in.

Nick kept an eye out on the hit man and the cop, and sure enough, first the hit man and then the cop followed Jarrod out. Nick bailed on the hand he was playing and quickly left without cashing out. His awareness level was riding high, too, and when he got outside he was grateful he knew where Jarrod was going, because none of the men he was following were in sight anymore. Streets, buildings and sight lines were tight in New Orleans. Nick turned and headed down the street where he knew Jarrod was walking.

The hit man carefully moved up on Jarrod, who tried to keep some distance between them but then lost it when a carriage got in his way at a street corner. The hit man drew up beside him, took him unobtrusively by the arm, and pulled him into a dance club there on the corner, saying, "This way, Darby."

The club was closed but the door was unlocked, leaving Jarrod wondering how the hit man knew that. But it didn't matter. In a moment they were inside and stopped just inside the door as it closed behind them.

That was when the policeman following turned the corner and saw that he had lost both Jarrod and the hit man. He stood for a moment, looking around, alarmed. In a moment Nick was beside him, and he was startled too. He couldn't see his brother or the hit man anywhere.

"Where are they?" Nick asked quickly.

The cop looked at him, not knowing who he was.

"I'm his brother," Nick said urgently. "Where are they?"

The cop sighed and shook his head. "I don't know."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

It was dark behind the closed door the hit man had pulled Jarrod behind. Jarrod couldn't get a good look at the man, but he remembered what he saw of him in the gambling hall and when he was grabbed on the street. What he didn't like right now was not knowing if the man had a gun on him or not.

"Give me the money," the man said.

Jarrod took the envelope out of his inside breast pocket and handed it over. "Where were you last night?" he asked.

The man took the money and smashed Jarrod in the face without answering. Jarrod fell back against a wall, stunned and hurting. He saw the flash of bright light and then following darkness as the man left, but he was too hurt to get up and follow. For the moment he couldn't even stand up, and a moment later the whole world was spinning.

Outside, Nick and the police officer had gone separate directions, further away from the corner where Jarrod had disappeared. The hit man came out of the building, looked carefully around, and then went back up the street toward the Absinthe House. He kept on going beyond that, though, and knew he was safely away.

Nick rejoined the police officer in a few minutes, back in front the building where Jarrod had disappeared. "Nothing?" Nick asked.

The cop shook his head.

Nick looked at the door to the building beside them, and he reached for it. It opened – he held it open because it was so dark inside and he needed the light. He and the cop stood there, and Nick saw something moving on the floor in the shadow. He pulled the door open wider and saw his brother.

"Jarrod!" he said and got down beside him.

Jarrod struggled to get up, Nick supporting him. The cop held the door open as Nick got his brother outside. They rested against the wall of the building. People looked but kept on walking. A stumblebum on a New Orleans corner was nothing to draw any real attention.

Jarrod moaned and held his head. "Are you all right?" Nick asked.

"Hit my head when he hit me and I went down," Jarrod said. "I'll be all right in a minute."

"Was it our hit man?" the cop asked.

"It was," Jarrod said. "He has the money. He got away from you?"

"Yeah," Nick said. "We lost you both for a few minutes. Let's get you back to the hotel."

"No," Jarrod said, beginning to recover. "Give me a minute. I have an appointment I have to get to."

"Maybe you'd better forget about that."

"No, I'll be all right. You can go with me." Jarrod finally opened his eyes and looked at his brother, and he smiled. "I guess we're through with Jack Darby."

"Damned right we are," Nick said and glared at the cop.

The cop sighed, frustrated and worried he hadn't done his job. He was supposed to protect Jarrod and to pick up this hit man if he appeared. He hadn't done either one.

Jarrod straightened up, on his feet again if a little wobbly. "Tell DuMont to stop by my hotel between four and five," Jarrod said. "We'll be there."

The cop nodded.

XXXXXXX

With Nick along with him, Jarrod made it to his appointment and by four o'clock they were back at the hotel, Jarrod's contract completed and signed and all the work he was sent to do here was over. It wasn't until they were back at the hotel and Jarrod got a look in the mirror that he saw the bruise developing under his left eye, where the hit man had hit him. Jarrod still wondered why the guy had punched him when he could have just left, but he supposed the man wanted to be sure he wouldn't be followed. No matter. It was all over now.

Jarrod and Nick would be meeting their dates at the gentlemen's club, then walking them around the corner to a lovely restaurant on Bourbon Street near Canal. It was a place Jarrod remembered for a wonderful Louisiana crab cake and lobster thermador. Just the thought of wonderful food put the rest of the day out of his mind, until a knock came at the door at about five.

Shaved and half dressed, Jarrod answered the door and found DuMont there. He invited the man in, asking, "Did you get him?"

"No," DuMont said. "Sadly, he got clean away."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Jarrod said.

"Not as sorry as I am," DuMont said. "We were supposed to have him before he made off with $5000 of the department's money. That'll probably be coming out of my salary for the rest of my life."

Under more normal circumstances, Jarrod would have asked more questions, but he didn't want to be backed into getting shanghaied as Jack Darby anymore. Nick came in from his bedroom about then, announcing, "We're done."

"Sort of," DuMont said.

"No, no, no," Jarrod quickly responded. "We're done."

"You might want to hold of saying that until you hear who the hit is on," DuMont said.

Jarrod and Nick both looked angrily suspicious.

DuMont said, "A fellow who volunteered to be our target. A man named Louis LaValle. I think you know him."

The restauranteur they met coming in from the rain, the place where Jarrod got his first slap across the face. "Why in the world would he volunteer for that?" Nick asked.

"His partner in the restaurant was hit last year," DuMont said. "It wasn't the same hit man, we don't think, but LaValle was approached because he's been loud and livid about paid hits."

"Does he know the hit's been paid for?" Jarrod asked.

DuMont nodded. "I just came from there. That's when we got talking about Darby and he told me you two had been in there."

"So what do you want out of me now?" Jarrod asked.

"Not much. Just keep being Darby."

"Oh, no," Jarrod said. "I am through being Jack Darby."

"Hear me out. You don't have to do anything. You don't have to change any of your plans for your vacation. You don't have to convince anyone that you're Darby, and whoever knows you're Barkley can keep knowing you're Barkley. All you have to do is not correct anyone who thinks you're Darby."

"For what purpose?" Jarrod asked, leering.

"Just to keep this hit man from getting wise, just to keep him from getting any wind of the notion that you're not Jack Darby. Just until we can round him up."

"Round him up," Nick said. "He slipped you today. There's a good chance he can kill LaValle and slip you again!"

"LaValle knows that," DuMont said. "He'll have a police presence around him, undercover. Our hit man will never know he's being watched."

"How can you be sure of that?" Jarrod asked. "Are you sure he didn't know you were following us today?"

DuMont had to concede. "No. I'm not sure he didn't know we were following you, and I suspect he did know. But if he gets wind that you're not Jack Darby – he'll know for sure he was set up."

"Maybe he ought to find out," Nick said. "Maybe that's the way of making sure he doesn't hit LaValle."

"We want to get this guy," DuMont said. "LaValle wants to get this guy. All I'm asking is that you don't correct anyone who thinks you're Darby."

"That may not be enough," Jarrod said.

"It may not," DuMont said, "but I won't ask you to openly pass yourself off as Darby anymore. Just don't correct people who take you for him. And it won't be for long. I'm betting we'll have this guy within 24 hours."

"You've done a lot of betting wrong," Nick said.

"I'm not going to bet wrong this time," DuMont said. "If he makes any try for LaValle at all, we're going to know. And LaValle has his own protection, too."

The big black man named Mose. But, "Somebody could take a shot at him from a distance and that could be that," Nick said.

DuMont shook his head. "Easy to do out west, not so easy in New Orleans. These streets are narrow, full of buildings and people. If our man wants to take LaValle out, he's going to have to get closer."

Jarrod sighed. "Just what makes you think your man doesn't already know I'm not Darby?"

"He might know," DuMont conceded. "But if he doesn't, I don't want him to get wind of it."

"We have plans for this evening with a couple young ladies," Jarrod said. "I don't want them exposed to any danger at all."

DuMont nodded. "There'll be a couple officers shadowing you for the next 24 hours, and I really don't think you're in any danger from our hit man. He doesn't kill unless he gets paid to, and right now it's LaValle he's paid to kill, not you. And, uh – " DuMont reached into his pocket and pulled out two business cards that he gave to Jarrod and Nick. "These are your passes out of jail, if you need them."

Jarrod and Nick took them and pocketed them. "I trust you'll let us know when this is over," Jarrod said.

DuMont nodded.

Jarrod and Nick looked at each other. Nick shrugged. Jarrod said, "All right, I'll play along for the next 24 hours, but our ladies will already know I'm Jarrod Barkley, not Jack Darby."

DuMont nodded one more time. "I doubt that will make any difference."

"Has anybody ever figured out where Darby went?" Jarrod asked.

DuMont shook his head. "Out of town, probably, or he's really lying low. Whenever he turns up, though, he and I are going to have a nice long talk."

"You better hope I don't get to him first," Nick said.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

It was amazing what the sight of beautiful women could do for two men with an unhappy weight on their shoulders. Michael opened the door to the gentlemen's club for the Barkley men, with a smile but no words, and just inside, in the lobby, he introduced them to two of the most stunning women Nick and Jarrod had ever seen. Both dark-haired and dark-eyed, both dressed in gorgeous white gowns and wearing white gloves. Michael said, "Gentlemen, may I present Caroline Purcell and Louisa de la Court. Ladies, the brothers Barkley, Jarrod and Nick."

Jarrod immediately took Louisa's hand and kissed it, every concern in his head flying away. "Miss de la Court, you must be the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

She smiled. "That's a very nice start to the evening, Mr. Barkley."

"Jarrod," he said, and was grateful he didn't have to say Jack Darby.

"Louisa," she said.

Nick, meanwhile, was kissing Caroline's hand. "What is that intriguing scent you're wearing?" he asked.

She smiled. "A lady has her secrets, Mr. Barkley."

"Nick," he said.

"Caroline," she said.

Jarrod slipped Michael two large bills to cover his expenses and fees. "Ladies," Jarrod said, "we have reservations around the corner at the Galant, and then dancing at the ballroom at the Hotel Orleans."

"Delightful," Louisa said.

And that wonderful start to the evening continued. At the restaurant, they ate and drank and talked. The women were well versed in Shakespeare and Victor Hugo, and remarkably, they could hold their own with Nick when discussing rice and gold markets. "Women love gold," Caroline reminded him when Nick looked surprised they knew as much as they did.

Which made Nick almost blush.

After dinner, they walked slowly toward the Hotel Orleans, the men taking their lady's arm and making sure they were on the curb side of the sidewalk to take any splashes from passing vehicles. It had rained earlier, but not as badly as it usually did on a New Orleans afternoon.

Jarrod had explained over dinner that he was an attorney in town on business and brought his brother along for a bit of a vacation. As he walked with Louisa, she asked him what kind of law he practiced. "Oh, a little of this and a little of that," he said.

"Commercial?" she asked. "I would assume you handle your family's commercial legal interests."

Her interest piqued Jarrod's. "Yes, I do, but I also have private practices in Stockton and in San Francisco, so I actually do a little of this and a little of that."

"My father was a lawyer here in town, and I have to admit, while I was not supposed to bother my little head about legal matters, I did pick up a few things from him."

"Ah, well," Jarrod said, "the law here in Louisiana is quite different from the law in the rest of the country, being based on French law and not English. I'm not able to represent clients who live here, and I was only able to handle the work I came here to do because I'd done it before for my client, in California. I've picked up enough knowledge of contract law here in New Orleans to do what I needed to do. But what exactly is it about the law that intrigued a young lady like yourself?"

"The words, actually," Louisa said. "Mostly French and Latin, of course, but not the words I was learning from my tutors. I've always had a love of language."

"You speak French, then."

"And Spanish, and I can read Latin and Greek. I've been raised to be a proper New Orleans lady."

Jarrod wondered how she ended up being a professional escort, if she had been raised to be a proper lady, but he was far too polite to ask, and Louisa did not volunteer. Instead of becoming too nosy, Jarrod simply switched the conversation to lighter subjects and spoke in Spanish, admitting he was rusty at it but was taking advantage of the opportunity. They talked some more about Hugo and Shakespeare as they walked along.

Behind them, Nick and Caroline were being far more commercial in their conversation. It turned out Caroline was an avid student of the local stock exchange, which surprised Nick. "Do they even let a lady on the floor?" he asked.

"No," she admitted, "but I have a brother who is my partner in crime. He is a broker, and he is very patient with my questions."

"Are your parents still living?" Nick asked.

"No, they died quite a while ago," Caroline said. "My brother is a dozen years older than I am, and he raised me, saw to my education. He knows what I do for a living."

Nick wondered if he also knew what she didn't do for a living, but like Jarrod he was too polite to get into that subject. These were not prostitutes they were escorting. They were company and dancing partners, no more, and they all knew it. "I suppose being a businessman's company on an evening like this has given you even more business acumen, hasn't it?" And he privately prided himself on using a ten dollar word like "acumen."

"It has," Caroline said. "That's one reason I do it. I've done very well with my continuing education, and with my investments."

Nick didn't approach the subject of insider information, either. Instead he shifted it to, "The gold markets. Have you speculated there too?"

Caroline nodded. "I've done pretty well there too."

"A lady after my own heart," Nick admitted.

"Tell me more about the gold markets in California," Caroline said. "Your family is in gold?"

"Indeed we are," Nick said. "We own or have partnerships in several mines."

Caroline drew closer. "Intriguing. Tell me some secrets about how I can be a better investor in gold – nothing illegal, mind you."

Nick smiled. He liked this lady.

It wasn't long before they arrived on the dance floor at the Hotel Orleans. The ballroom was big and comfortably crowded. The orchestra was lush, the women were beautifully dressed, the men gallant and everyone awfully good at dancing. But then the Barkley men knew they were good at it, too, and it wasn't long before they were dancing the night away.

Nick especially enjoyed being closer to that heady scent that Caroline was wearing. It wasn't long before he was wondering if he should seek out her company the next night, too, but he didn't want to approach that subject without talking to Jarrod about it. The music started to go to Nick's head, surprising him, because even though he enjoyed a dance as much as the next man, this experience here – the fine clothes, the rich orchestra, the elegance and the remarkable beauty and intelligence of the woman in his arms – was making him feel even higher than the champagne at dinner had. _I could get used to this life_, he thought to himself. _I could get used to this town_.

At one point he and Caroline took a break and sat down to enjoy some punch and conversation, and Nick asked, "Have you ever been to California?"

"No, never," Caroline said.

"You should come sometime."

"Oh, Nick, I'm a city girl," she said, "and my city is New Orleans."

"We have San Francisco."

"And I've heard a lot about it," Caroline said, "but New Orleans is unique. I've been to Paris, and I've been to New York, and I find that New Orleans is a perfect mixture of both. I doubt that San Francisco can compare."

"How will you know until you visit?"

Caroline laughed. "If that's an invitation, Mr. Barkley, I'm afraid I'll have to turn it down. Please don't confuse a business transaction with a genuine social interaction."

Nick felt embarrassed, but just a little. "Well, I realize what we have this evening is all business, and if that sounded like an invitation, I'll withdraw it. But if you ever do decide to come out our way, I'd be happy to show you a gold mine or two."

Caroline's eyes twinkled. "Now, that's an invitation I might have to take you up on someday."

Still dancing, Jarrod and Louisa caught a glimpse of Nick and Caroline sitting together, drinking and laughing. "Your brother is quite the ladies' man," Louisa said.

Jarrod smiled. "He tries to be. Sometimes he's pretty awkward about it."

"It doesn't look like tonight is one of those nights," Louisa said.

Jarrod gave Nick and Caroline another look. "My brother enjoys a good time, and he knows how to make one happen."

Jarrod and Louisa looked at each other again. "And you," Caroline said. "You're quite different from your brother."

"In some ways," Jarrod said. "I tend to prefer literature and he tends to prefer a good poker game."

"But you're not adverse to a little gambling either."

"No. Not at all."

"And that bruise on your cheek didn't come from Shakespeare."

Jarrod smiled. "No, it didn't."

"You know," Caroline said after looking very closely into Jarrod's blue eyes, "I'm very certain I've seen you before tonight."

Jarrod felt his neck crawl. He didn't know how to respond to that, because he was certain as soon as she said it that she was talking about Jack Darby. "I've been to New Orleans before," he said. "Perhaps you saw me on the street. I'm told I have a memorable face."

Louisa laughed. "Relax, Jarrod. I know you're not Jack Darby, but you certainly look and sound like him."

Jarrod was half glad she had opened that door. He nodded. "My cousin," Jarrod said. "We only met a couple years ago, in California. We do bear a remarkable resemblance to one another, but temperamentally, we are nothing alike."

"So I'm beginning to gather," Louisa said.

"You've spent some time with my cousin?"

Louisa nodded, saying, "Mm-hmm," in such a way that Jarrod immediately got suspicious – and nervous. What had Darby done to this lovely young lady?

"Did you want to tell me about it?" Jarrod asked.

Louisa shook her head. "Uhn-uh," she said, and her eyes twinkled. She had just brought Darby up to tease Jarrod.

Jarrod knew it. "Good," he said, and pulled her closer.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"So," Nick said as he and Caroline returned to the dance floor. "Is it your brother who taught you how to dance so beautifully?"

Caroline laughed. "No. My brother has two left feet. I was taught at finishing school."

"Interesting word, 'finishing' school. I suppose it's because that's where you finish your lessons in becoming a lady?"

"I never thought about it," Caroline said, "but I suppose you could be right. How about you, Nick? Do you have much formal schooling?"

"No, no, Jarrod's the one with the brains so he got the formal education. I think with me my parents realized early they had a lost cause. I've always been the one who wanted to get out and work the ranch, herd the cattle, fix the fences. And my father taught me about the other businesses as I was growing up – the gold mining, the orchards, the vineyards and the wineries. My education was entirely practical."

"So you were ready to take over when the time came."

Nick grew a bit quiet, remembering. "I'm not sure I was ready, but my father was killed and running things fell to me whether I wanted them or not. I was only 22."

"Oh, my goodness, that is young." Caroline looked closely at her dancing partner. "Regrets on losing your childhood so abruptly?"

Nick smiled. "No, not that. Regrets at losing my father, yes. He was a big presence in all our lives, and he died fighting the railroad, fighting for his world and his neighbors. But he prepared me well, and I had big brother Jarrod to help me with the niceties I didn't know much about. He had already been practicing law by then and knew a lot more about the business end of things. I knew more about the ranching."

"It sounds like you made a good team."

"We have," Nick said with a smile.

"But I'm going to make a guess – this is the first time you and he have gotten away from work together, isn't it? The first time you're letting your hair down, so to speak."

Nick laughed even more. "It's our first real vacation, but like any vacation, it's had its unexpected complications."

"So I noticed from your brother's face. But so far you've avoided the harsher effects of the complications."

"My, my, you do have a way with words," Nick said. "And you do notice things."

It was Caroline's turn to laugh. "And I do get a bit nosy sometimes. Forgive me. It's just that one of the things I like most about my chosen career is that I get to meet different and fascinating people. I don't like to let the opportunity to learn things go by. But – shall we talk a bit more about business? Tell me more about the wine markets."

The way she put that – the delight that made her eyes twinkle when she said the word "markets" - made Nick laugh.

At about that time Jarrod and Louisa left the floor and sat down with some punch. Jarrod had no trouble letting the subject of Jack Darby go, and he wasn't about to tell Louisa how he had gotten the bruise on his face. Instead, he brought her a glass, sat down with her, and said, "Tell me more about Shakespeare. I don't recall there being a whole lot of opportunity to see it performed around here."

"No, certainly not like New York, but we have a bit of the finer culture here," Louisa said. "We're not all one party after another."

"Did you start reading Shakespeare as a girl, or did you see it performed first?" Jarrod asked.

"I read it, but of course it doesn't come alive until you see it performed," Louisa said. "How about you? When did you first see it performed?"

"Well, believe it or not," Jarrod said, "it was during the war. In Washington. Amazing how people will hang onto the finer arts even when the world is blowing up all around them."

They both grew a little solemn at the memory of what Louisa then called, "The recent unpleasantness. I take it you were a soldier, then."

"I was," Jarrod said. "Stationed for a while in Washington after I was wounded at Sharpsburg."

"I lost a cousin at Shiloh," Louisa said. "He was seventeen and a lieutenant, but he was out of place in a war. I'm told he stood up straight and waved his sword when he should have gotten down."

"I'm very sorry," Jarrod said. "I hope the experience hasn't made you too bitter."

She smiled a little. "Toward you Yankee boys? At first it did – with the war and the occupation – but that all starts to fade after a while. You get on with life, don't you?"

"And life brings its own challenges, and complications," Jarrod said, but he smiled. "And its own enjoyments."

Louisa smiled, too. "I find I actually prefer the company of you Yankee boys lately. You seem to be more interested in literature and the arts than a lot of Southern men, though I don't know why it seems that way. I was raised to think that Southern gentlemen were the height of sophistication and education, but if they were, they seem to lose it when they get into the business world."

"Funny, isn't it?" Jarrod said. "How meeting new people and learning about different ways of life can change all your preconceived notions."

"You've had preconceived notions about Southern ladies?" Louisa asked with a smile.

"Until I met my first Southern girls, in Washington during the war, believe it or not. Southern ladies are just as complicated as northern ones, and we northern men get just as baffled about it as southerners."

Louisa laughed. "Jarrod, I think it's time we danced a bit more, don't you?"

Jarrod took her glass and put it aside on a small table, then got up and took her hand. "You're right. Life is so much simpler on the dance floor," he said.

XXXXXXX

At the end of the evening, the Barkley men walked the ladies back to the gentlemen's club, slowly, comfortably. They did not talk as much, leaving off the discussions of Shakespeare and the markets and settling into a few words about the music and the moonlight. But it wasn't long before they reached the club, and it was time to part. Michael met them at the door. Each of the Barkley men allowed themselves to take a polite kiss on their lady's cheek, saying, "Thank you. I enjoyed that a lot."

And then Michael let the women inside, and they were gone.

Jarrod slipped Michael some money, asking, "When are they available again?" very quietly.

Michael said, "Sorry. You got lucky with a cancelation tonight. They're both busy for the next week."

"Sad," Jarrod sighed. "They were just the ladies to take the edge off a wild day."

Michael smiled knowingly. "So I've heard about your day."

Jarrod raised an eyebrow. "You hear everything, don't you?"

"My ear to the ground, Mr. Barkley," Michael said.

It was going on one in the morning when Jarrod and Nick returned to their hotel room and Nick flopped down on the sofa, saying, "How can we get those girls tomorrow night, too?"

"Tonight," Jarrod corrected him on the time. "And we can't. They're already taken. I checked with Michael when we took them back to the club."

"I don't know about you, but I never enjoyed talking about gold futures and stock markets more than I did tonight."

Jarrod took his jacket off and started to work on his cravat. "So that's what you two had your heads together about."

'Her brother's a stock broker and she learned about markets from him," Nick said. "And that perfume she was wearing – "

"I didn't get close enough to sample it," Jarrod said.

"How about Louisa? Did you enjoy her company?"

"Very much," Jarrod said. "She was pretty well-versed on literature and even legal matters herself – grew up learning from her lawyer father. But – she did bring up Jack Darby."

Nick sat up straight. "You're kidding. She knows him?"

"She knows him," Jarrod said, "and well enough to be sure that I wasn't him. I didn't get into it very deeply with her."

"You don't think she'll talk to him and tell him we're in town, do you?"

"I don't know. But I'm not gonna lose any sleep over it. The Darby affair is over as far as I'm concerned – and by the way, I didn't spot any police officer who might have been shadowing us, did you?"

"No," Nick said, and smiled, "but I wasn't really looking."

"Admittedly, neither was I," Jarrod said, taking on his own smile. "We had better things to do tonight, didn't we?"

"Didn't we?" Nick agreed. "How much longer are we in town?"

"We should head home the day after tomorrow," Jarrod said. "We'll need to go up to the train station in the morning and arrange for the car to be attached."

Nick sighed. "While we were playing with the police, I couldn't wait to leave, but after tonight, I'm gonna be kind of sorry about it."

"Are you interested in trying to lose any more money tomorrow?" Jarrod asked.

"Tell you what," Nick said. "Let's sleep in and then do a little shopping for the folks we left at home tomorrow. Then I'd like to take in the horse races in the afternoon."

Jarrod nodded. "All right. We can finish up with dinner and little gambling at the Absinthe House. And I'm sorry, but we really haven't scratched the surface of what we can do in New Orleans."

Nick thought about the things he had done, the ones Jarrod was in on and the one in particular he wasn't. "I suspect it would take a while to do that, but you're right. We do have to be getting back home. I got a ranch to run. One question I have for you, though."

"What's that?"

"Do you think we're through with DuMont and you impersonating Darby?"

Jarrod thought about it. "I don't know. He said 24 hours. Maybe we'll find out something in the morning, or maybe we'll never learn anything else at all."

"Do you think we ought to stop by LaValle's place and see if he's all right?"

Jarrod thought some more. "Might be risky, but then again it would be good to know he's still alive. We'll swing by there for lunch before we go to the races."

Nick got up. "Sounds like a plan," he said and headed for the wc.

Jarrod wondered as Nick disappeared whether it was wise to be anywhere near LaValle tomorrow, but on the other hand, he too was curious. It was itchy to be part of something like this trick to trap a hit man and then never know how it all comes out. Jarrod pulled his get-out-of-jail card out of his pocket to see if it had a contact for DuMont on it, but it didn't, so he didn't know how to find the man to ask him how things were. If they were going to find out, it would have to be lunch at LaValle's restaurant. Jarrod just hoped they wouldn't find out anything bad.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

They couldn't help but sleep in the next morning, so late that they just got coffee instead of breakfast. They went to the train station to arrange for their car to be attached to the train to Chicago the next day, then headed for the shops on Royal near the cathedral, to buy some jewelry for their mother and sister, and perhaps a good stick pin for Heath. It was a beautiful morning and they shopped without a care, until they went into one shop where the woman tending the store took one look at Jarrod - and slapped him across the face.

"Hey – " Nick started, and then at once he and Jarrod both remembered they were not going to correct anyone who thought Jarrod was Jack Darby, at least not yet.

"Get out!" the woman growled. "How dare you show your face in here! Get out!"

They got out. "I hope her voice didn't carry," Jarrod said as he rubbed his cheek and they moved on to another shop.

"I was hoping we were through with that," Nick said.

"What do you mean, 'we'? Nobody's slapped you yet – " Then Jarrod thought about the time his brother was out on his own. "Have they?"

Nick laughed, said, "I'll never tell," and they went into another shop.

They found fleur-de-lis earrings for their mother and sister, and a fleur-de-lis stick pin for Heath, all in gold, that made Nick smile remembering Caroline.. Nick liked them so much he bought a stick pin for himself. Then he and Jarrod split the small packages up and pocketed them, and they headed for La Rue for lunch.

Jarrod walked through the door first and the barmaid who had hit him before started for him, but then she saw Nick and stopped. Mose, the big black man who protected this place, came forward. He didn't smile, but he said, "Afternoon, gentlemen. Let me show you to a table."

As he took them to a spot near the window, Jarrod asked, "Is Monsier LaValle around today?"

"In the back," Muse said. "I'll tell him you're here."

"Thank you," Jarrod said as he and Nick sat down. The barmaid took their drink order, and then LaValle appeared from the back room.

Smiling, the owner sat down with them. Nick and Jarrod sat facing each other, the window beside them, and LaValle sat down between them, facing the window. Which made both Nick and Jarrod a bit nervous.

"Welcome back, gentlemen," LaValle said. "I hope you've had a good stay in New Orleans."

"It's been interesting," Nick said.

Jarrod said, "Are you sure you should be showing your face through the window? You're an easy target."

"Ah, yes," LaValle said. "DuMont told me you knew all about the little sting he and I have going against a certain hit man."

"I wouldn't take it too lightly," Jarrod said.

LaValle pointed out the window, across the narrow street to a building that had no windows facing them. "For anyone to shoot me, he'd have to walk up to this window to do it," LaValle said. "Too many people and too much traffic to be at street level over there. And over here, I've got a police presence on the corner that any self-respecting hit man would spot right away. Nobody's going to kill me here. He'll get me on my way out tonight if he's going to get me at all." He looked at Jarrod. "I hear you delivered the payment, as Jack Darby."

Jarrod nodded. "And got a fist in my face for my efforts."

LaValle looked closely at Jarrod and saw only a small cut and bruise on the side of his cheek. "That doesn't look very bad."

"It hasn't ruined my stay," Jarrod said.

Nick and Jarrod ordered lunch, and then LaValle asked, "How much longer are you going to be in town?"

"Leaving tomorrow," Jarrod said. "My business is complete, and we have a long way home."

"I'm sorry if my plans put a damper on yours," LaValle said. "I'd have told you about them the other day, but it never occurred to me you'd get caught up in them, at least not the way you have."

"I don't think it occurred to anyone that Darby would bail," Nick said.

"Well, you came to our rescue," LaValle said. "We'd have lost the whole scam if you hadn't turned up when you did. Lunch is on me, gentlemen – an inadequate thank you."

"Perhaps you should save the thank you until we're sure you're going to survive this," Jarrod said.

LaValle stood up. "I'll survive it. Not a doubt in my mind."

As he left, Jarrod and Nick looked at each other, with plenty of doubt in their minds. "At least he's alive for now," Nick said.

Jarrod nodded. "Let's just hope we're not reading about him in the morning papers."

XXXXXXX

After a delightful lunch, Jarrod and Nick got up, planning to drop their purchases off at the hotel safe and then head for the fairgrounds and afternoon horse racing. Just before they started for the front door, Jarrod said, "Just a second – we ought to thank Monsieur LaValle for lunch."

Mose overheard him. "I will get him from the office for you."

But there were customers coming in. Jarrod said, "We can just duck in and thank him – is that the office, back that little hallway?"

"Yes, knock first," Mose said.

Jarrod and Nick headed back the hallway. There were only three doors back there, one leading out to the back alley, one leading to the kitchen and the last one they figured was the office. Nick knocked.

Someone blasted out the door and sent Nick smashing back against the far wall of the little hallway. Before he or Jarrod could react, whoever it was had dashed for the back door. Nick had twisted his wrist when the door smashed open and was up against the wall, trying to flex it, but his face was full of pain. Jarrod took off after the man who ran out the back door.

Jarrod caught sight of the man turning onto the street at the end of the alley and ran faster, to try to catch up. "Hold it!" he yelled loudly as he got to the street, but the man kept running. Jarrod got a good look at the back of him and at how he moved, and he was sure it was the hit man he had delivered the money to. The man who had bashed him in the face.

Jarrod took off faster, yelling, "Police! Police!" and hoping whoever was supposed to be watching La Rue was hearing him. People on the street were gasping, crying out, trying to get out of the way of the two men running at them. Jarrod put an extra kick in and caught up with the man on another corner, just as a police officer in uniform caught up with them. Jarrod threw himself against the man and carried them both into a wall, but the hit man took the brunt of the bricks, cushioning Jarrod. Jarrod twisted him and punched him in the face – sweet revenge. The man went down.

"What's going on?" the police officer asked, and another man came closer, a man not in uniform but showing a badge.

Jarrod looked at them both. "This man just tried to kill Monsieur LaValle at La Rue. He may have done it."

The uniformed officer pulled the hit man to his feet. "I never saw him," the other policeman said.

Jarrod was trying to catch his breath. He was furious. "You didn't have anyone covering the back," he said. "This guy got in and out and you never saw him."

The two officers took the hit man off, and Jarrod hustled back to La Rue. Dashing in the front door, he saw everyone in the place was excited, standing up, looking toward the back. Mose was back there in the hall, half in the door to the office. Nick was still in the hall, rubbing his wrist.

Jarrod hurried back. "Are you all right?" he asked Nick.

Nick nodded. "Twisted my wrist."

"How about LaValle?"

Nick looked sick. "They're sending for a doctor."

Jarrod moved past Mose and into the office. The barmaid was there, holding a towel against LaValle's head. LaValle was at his desk, slumped down atop it. "How is he?" Jarrod asked quickly.

The barmaid looked up, shaking her head. "I don't know."

"Is he alive?" Jarrod asked.

LaValle groaned and moved a little. "He hit me," he said. "Then there was some noise and he took off."

Jarrod bent beside the man and the barmaid. LaValle lifted his head and put it down again. There was a bad wound on his left temple. "The police have the man," Jarrod said. "It was the hit man. I recognized him."

LaValle began to laugh. "Ha! Good! It worked!"

A doctor carrying a bag came in. Behind him, Nick and Mose blocked the door. Nick was still holding his wrist. Jarrod moved out of the way and lifted the barmaid away by the arm, so that the doctor could get to LaValle. Jarrod thought they could only say it worked if LaValle was going to survive this.

LaValle was still smiling.

Jarrod moved the barmaid toward the door, asking, "Could you take a look at my brother's wrist? He got hurt when that hit man burst through the door."

Nick smiled as the barmaid took his hand and gently began to examine it. "I can have the doctor look at it if you think you need it," she said.

Nick said, "Oh, no, I think your attention will do just fine."

She finally smiled again, at Nick. "We have some things behind the bar. I can wrap it up for you so you won't hurt by moving it around."

"That sounds just wonderful," Nick said.

Jarrod chuckled, then looked down at LaValle behind his desk, sitting up straight now as the doctor tended to the wound on his forehead. It looked like this was going to work out. Jarrod took a deep breath and shivered at the thought of what might have happened if he and Nick hadn't come back to the office just when they did. He followed along as the barmaid took Nick back into the dining room and then toward the bar.

Nick leaned up against the bar, resting his elbow on it as the barmaid took out a box from under the bar. She pulled a roll of cloth bandage out and proceeded to tape Nick's wrist for him. "You're sure it's not broken?" Jarrod asked.

"Naw, it's not broken," Nick said. "A little tape to keep it from twisting anymore and it'll be fine. You all right?"

"I'm fine," Jarrod said, "but I'm afraid our trip to the races is off. We're gonna be talking to the police for a while."

Nick sighed. "Well, a little conversation and a couple of Sazeracs, and LaValle being all right, and it won't be a wasted afternoon. And you can completely give up being Jack Darby now."

"Thank goodness," Jarrod said. "The next slap in the face I get, I'm gonna protest. And if I ever get my hands on Cousin Jack – "

"Temper, Brother Jarrod, temper," Nick said, and he smiled at the barmaid. "We're gonna need those Sazeracs pretty soon."

"You can have all the drinks you want," she said and finished taping Nick's wrist. "And I promise, I'll never slap you again," she said to Jarrod.

The doctor came out after a while, helping LaValle along, saying, "I'm taking Monsieur LaValle to his room. Mose? Where is Mose?"

The big black man had gone back to the front, to try to get the place somewhat back to normal. People had sat down again and were eating, but the buzz kept up. Mose heard his name and came back to the doctor and LaValle.

"Someone will need to stay with Monsieur LaValle for the rest of the day," he said.

"I can do that," the barmaid said. "Two more girls come on in a just a few minutes."

LaValle was fairly steady on his feet. He reached a hand for Jarrod, who took it. LaValle said, "I thank you very much for your efforts, Mr. Barkley – " and he looked at Nick, saying, "And you, too, sir. I hope that wrist is all right."

"It's fine," Nick said. "You have a fine nurse here. I'm sure she'll take good care of you."

"Mose, you're in charge, mind the store," LaValle said to the big black man.

"Yes, sir," Mose said.

LaValle lived only two doors down. The doctor and the barmaid left with him.

Jarrod and Nick stood at the bar, watching them go. Mose moved behind the bar and said, "Did I hear an order for Sazeracs?"

Nick grinned. "I've kind of taken a liking to those."

Jarrod nodded. "Just the cure for a busted afternoon."

Mose said, "Coming right up."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Jarrod and Nick spent the afternoon at La Rue, but not just drinking Sazeracs. DuMont and a few other police officers came to question them, to question everyone who had been there, and to check out the scene. When the afternoon was mostly gone, one of the local prosecutors appeared, and gave them the news that Jarrod, at least, had to stick around town for a while. The hit man would be arraigned the next day and the trial set, and Jarrod would be a witness, since he was the only one who could connect the man who came out of LaValle's office with the man who was arrested on the street as the hit man.

"How long do I need to stay in town?" Jarrod asked.

"I can't say until after the arraignment," the prosecutor said. "We try for speedy trial around here, but it doesn't always work out so speedy."

Jarrod gave a sigh. "Well, we better get on over to the train station and have them cancel attaching our car to tomorrow's train. What time will the arraignment be tomorrow?"

"Arraignments start at ten," the prosecutor said and gave them the address of the proper court.

"Well, it might not be so bad," Nick said as the prosecutor left and he and Jarrod finished their latest Sazerac. "It gives us a little more time to play, maybe make the races tomorrow, maybe have another night with Louisa and Caroline."

"And another trip to the annex?" Jarrod asked with a twinkle in his eye.

Nick didn't know Jarrod knew he had already been there.

Jarrod and Nick got up. "We'll check things out with Michael after the arraignment tomorrow, when we know how long we'll be here," Jarrod said. "Let's go get the rail car straightened away."

They walked the many blocks to the train station and canceled the next day's hook-up. By then it was getting late in the afternoon, so they went to the hotel to leave their gift purchases at the safe and change clothes, and then they went off to the gentlemen's club for cigars and conversation. Nick couldn't resist asking Michael again if there was any chance for another evening with Louisa and Caroline anytime soon, but he dashed Nick's hopes. The ladies were booked for every night they were available for the next week. Michael said he could find another couple of companions for the Barkleys, but Nick said, "I don't know. It might be tough to recreate the magic."

"We'll see how you feel about things after the arraignment tomorrow," Jarrod said.

"Arraignment?" Michael asked. "Are you two in trouble?"

"No," Jarrod said. "We just helped nab a hit man today."

"Oh!" Michael said. "At La Rue, the man who tried to kill Monsieur LaValle!"

"Heard about that already, did you?" Nick asked.

"My ear to the ground," Michael repeated his words from the night before and opened the door for the Barkleys.

The Barkleys settled in with cigars and coffee, and before long the same ladies who had shared conversation with them the first evening they were here were back again. It wasn't the same, though. The lovely evening they had spent with Louisa and Caroline had spoiled them. They were gentlemen and enjoyed the company, but that was all.

It had been a long day. Jarrod and Nick went for dinner to the saloon next door to the hotel, where they enjoyed the music and some prawns and yet one more Sazerac before they went back to their room and settled in.

"Ten o'clock, huh?" Nick said.

For the hit man's arraignment. "You don't need to be there, Nick," Jarrod said. "It might not be first on the docket. There's no telling what time it will actually take place. You can entertain yourself if you want."

"No, no, I better go with you," Nick said. "Somebody better have your back, just in case."

"There won't be any need. The only dangerous man is locked up."

"I'll still go," Nick said. "We can plan our day out while we wait for the case to be called."

"I thought we already decided we'd have the day we were planning on today – races and the Absinthe House for dinner and gambling."

"Yeah," Nick said.

He sounded less than enthusiastic. "What's the matter?" Jarrod asked. "Looking for another night like you had with Caroline?"

"In a way," Nick admitted.

"You know, when Heath and I were in New York, we had a similar evening with a couple of beautiful women," Jarrod said. "We decided to treasure the memory and let it go. I suggest you learn to do the same."

"I will," Nick said. "Tomorrow."

Jarrod chuckled. "Tomorrow it is, then. We'll plan on the races and the Absinthe House and fill in the holes as we go along, and if you decide you want a visit to the annex, we'll work that in, too."

"What about you?" Nick asked.

"If I feel the need for the annex, I'll work it in, too," Jarrod said.

But Nick knew he probably wouldn't. Marrying had changed his big brother. Commercial relationships – to the extent they had ever meant that much to Jarrod – just didn't anymore. He had found something special once and knew the commercial transactions many men enjoyed weren't good enough now. He'd strayed into casual affairs for a while, but places like the annex or Big Annie's back in Stockton just didn't seem to hold the same satisfaction as they did for Nick. "Fair enough," Nick finally said and started to head off to the wc, "but I'm going with you to court. Not that I think you'll get into any trouble from your hit man. I'd just like to see what happens to the that low-life myself."

XXXXXXXX

The arraignment was a complete shock. The hit man pled guilty. Guilty to the charge of assault with a deadly weapon against LaValle, on which he immediately received a sentence of twenty years in prison, and there were no other charges. Jarrod could figure out what was going on, but Nick was flummoxed. After the prosecutor they had met the day before was finished with his arraignments, Jarrod and Nick followed him out and met him in the hall.

"What happened?" Jarrod asked. "You reached a deal?"

The prosecutor nodded. "We don't have enough on him for anything else. In exchange for twenty years for attacking LaValle, we've closed the book on everything else. It will get him off the streets. It's what we wanted most."

"And I'm free to head home, as far as you're concerned?" Jarrod said.

The prosecutor nodded. "And thanks," he said as he went away.

"So it's over," Nick said. "That fast, it's just over."

"That fast, it's just over," Jarrod said. He took a deep breath and said, "Why don't we head to La Rue and see how LaValle is, get a bite to eat, and then head for the races?"

"You want to head home tomorrow?"

"Do you?"

"Yeah, I think I do want to get back to the ranch. And get out of here while the getting is good."

"And before Darby shows up," Jarrod said.

"Definitely before Darby shows up."

They headed for LaRue, and when they went in, they were astonished to find LaValle there in the dining room, taking charge as if nothing had happened. All that showed the day before had been a near disaster was a bandage on his temple.

"You're up and around!" Nick said.

LaValle smiled. "A slight headache, no more," he said. "I'll head home after the noon rush and rest a bit before dinner, but I'm fine. And you gentlemen, how are you?"

Jarrod explained where they had been and what happened. What happened at the arraignment wasn't a surprise to him. DuMont had come to see him about an hour earlier and told him what was going to happen. "And how are you with that?" Jarrod asked.

"It gets the man off the street," LaValle said. "I'll take it."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

After a leisurely lunch, Jarrod and Nick went by the railroad station to arrange for their car to be attached to the next morning's train to Chicago. Then they were off to the races at the fairgrounds. Nick had good luck on the horses, but Jarrod lost a bit of the money he'd won at the gambling tables earlier. "No matter," he said when they headed back to the hotel. "I'll make it up at the Absinthe House. Are you all settled for now, or do you want to stop by the gentlemen's club?"

And the annex. Nick understood that's what Jarrod was asking. He checked his watch, saw it was after five, and said, "No. Let's just get cleaned up and changed and have a good dinner and gambling at the Absinthe House." He thought about Caroline and smiled. "I don't think I can improve on the other night."

As they walked back to the hotel, Jarrod thought about everything that had happened since they got here. "I hope the trip wasn't too big a disappointment, what with getting mixed up in Darby's business again."

"No," Nick said. "I mean, I'm sorry we did, but that's a vacation for you. You never know what's gonna happen. I suppose we need to decide what we're going to tell Mother, and what we're not going to tell her."

"I suggest we just keep it all to ourselves," Jarrod said.

"I don't think she'd mind knowing you helped nail a hit man."

"_We_ helped nail a hit man. You had a part in all this too. But I don't think we need to tell her about it."

"Why not?"

"Well, let's just say I'd rather not get into a long discussion about Darby."

"What about Louisa and Caroline?"

Jarrod smiled. "Let's just say I'd rather not get into a long discussion about the women we might have shared our company with. And I don't think you want to do that either."

"Louisa and Caroline were safe. We were gentlemen."

"But do you want to risk the annex coming up? You know how you can let things slip out sometimes."

Nick considered that. "You're right. Sometimes I do say the wrong things."

"Before we came out here," Jarrod said, "Mother said she didn't want details of how we spent our time. She has no illusions about us – she knows we're grown men. I think we best just do what she says and keep things to ourselves. If we say anything, we can just say we were gentlemen and leave it at that."

Nick sighed. "Yeah. You're right."

After cleaning up and changing clothes back at their room, they went on to the Absinthe House for dinner. They enjoyed the jambalaya and the music of the small house band and drank one last Sazerac together – toasting Jack Darby and the joy of not running into him even if he did overshadow their entire stay. Then they moved onto the gambling house and spent a long time playing poker, smoking cigars, and enjoying winning money and just not worrying about Jack Darby, hit men, or anything else.

Something curious began to happen there at about nine o'clock. A man came in with a camera and began setting up here and there around the room. He talked to people and took photographs, not staying very long in any one place. Several of the patrons looked unhappy about it, but as soon as he moved on, they were done with him.

It wasn't very long before the man set up at the Barkleys' table and pointed his camera at Jarrod and Nick. He quickly passed out business cards, saying, "Gentlemen, I don't intend to pester you for long. I'm only taking photographs for the newspaper. We're doing a series of articles on the various gambling houses here in New Orleans and tonight it's the Absinthe House's turn. Do you mind if I take one photo?"

Jarrod and Nick both shrugged. They were just playing poker, after all. Besides, everyone at the table figured if they let him do what he wanted he would go away quicker. He put the plate into the camera, set up the flash and in just a moment asked everyone to smile. Jarrod and Nick looked up, smiling just a little, and the photographer zeroed in on them. In a moment the flash went off and the photographer thanked everyone, pulled his plate and put it into his bag, and moved on to another table.

"For the newspaper, huh?" Jarrod said.

One of the other players said, "The newspaper's been doing it all over town for months. It's a way to drum up business for the gambling houses."

"Like they need it," one of the other players said.

"Nobody seems to worry about their wives seeing them in a gambling house?" Nick asked.

The other men at the table looked at him like he was crazy. "You're not from around here, are you?" one of them asked.

Jarrod laughed.

"I wonder if we could get a copy of the picture," Nick said to Jarrod as they went back to the game.

Jarrod looked at him, wondering why he asked that.

"Souvenir," Nick said.

"Evidence for Mother," Jarrod said.

"You think too much like a lawyer," Nick said.

Jarrod laughed again.

And everything was just fine until somebody at another table slugged the photographer. All hell broke loose - the photographer grabbed his equipment and ran out, men started throwing punches, other men ran for the exits, waitresses disappeared into a back room, dealers gathered up money and retreated elsewhere too, and bartenders held fast at their bars to protect the liquor. Jarrod and Nick got up to get out of the way, but somebody threw an errant punch that landed on Nick's jaw, and that did it. The Barkley men were in the thick of things too - until the police arrived and started hauling people away.

Jarrod and Nick got separated for a few minutes, but ultimately ran into each other outside, bloodied but unbowed, each of them brandishing his get-out-of-jail card that had sent the police off without them. Nick grinned. "Not a bad way to end a trip like this one. Something not to tell Mother about."

Jarrod laughed and said, "And Jack Darby is nowhere in sight."

XXXXXXXXXX

Epilogue

New Orleans Public Library, 1959

Cal Calhoun was careful with the old newspapers he was looking through, because they were old and brittle despite the constant New Orleans humidity. He was doing some research on the Absinthe House, where he and his business partner had their offices and his partner had his living quarters. They were thinking about some renovations but did not want to run afoul of the historical preservation people. His partner, at a nearby table, was consulting some books on New Orleans history.

And Cal suddenly came to an old photograph in one of the old newspapers. It was startling, partly because it was still in such good shape that he could see the people in it clearly, and partly because of who he was seeing in it. "Rex!" he called his partner, not too loudly. "Come over here!"

Rex Randolph got up, walked over, and looked over Cal's shoulder. "What have you got?"

Cal pointed. "Take a look at this."

Rex looked closely at the man Cal was pointing at. The photo was of the old gambling room at the Absinthe House, and showed some men at a gaming table. Rex began to grin. "Well, would you look at that? I've got a hundred-year-old twin!"

"One of your ancestors, maybe?" Cal asked.

"Maybe," Rex said. "It doesn't say who he is, does it?"

"No. But he sure is the spitting image of you – and take a closer look."

Cal pointed to another man, in the background, slightly out of focus but still clear enough to see his face. The other man was smiling, looking at the camera, holding a cigar in his hand. The man in the foreground didn't seem to know he was there. Rex looked – and was astonished. "Not twins! Triplets!"

The man in the background looked exactly like the man in the foreground, and they both looked exactly like Rex.

"Maybe these two were twins," Cal said. "Any twins in your family tree?"

"Not that I know of," Rex said. "These men would be my great grandfather's age, and I'm told I do favor old Great Grandpappy Darby. Maybe one of them is my great grandfather, but I don't think he had a twin."

"Well, they were here at the Absinthe House in the early 1880s. Interesting coincidence, that here we are now working on restoring the glory of the place."

"I don't know about the glory," Rex said. "The Absinthe House doesn't appear to be interested in opening up a gambling room again. But it is fascinating, isn't it? To see two men in an ancient photograph, who look exactly like me."

"The one in the background looks a bit on the roguish side, doesn't he?"

"I'm told my Great Grandpappy Darby had a past," Rex said. "But to me, he was just an old goat who liked to grab passing children and tickle them to death."

"He was alive when you were a kid?"

"Till I was seven."

"Too bad there isn't more here about these two men," Cal said.

"Yes," Rex said. And he smiled as he looked at the two men again. "Yeah, I obviously got my boyish good looks from somebody. I'll bet they're both relatives of mine," he said thoughtfully, and then he laughed. "Whoever they were, I'll bet they had a time or two together. They look like the type."

"And you got that temperament from somewhere," Cal said.

Rex raised his eyebrows. "I am the personification of decorum!"

Cal laughed. "You keep right on believing that, Rex. Just as I'll bet your Great Grandpappy Darby did."

Rex gave a laugh and another look at the photo. Yes, he was sure these two men were related to him somehow, and he was sorry he couldn't pin down how, but what the heck. Seeing his own face in these two men tickled him. Wasn't life just curious that way?

The End


End file.
